


It's Our Job to be There for Family

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Discrimination, Gen, Nightmares, i hope you guys like it, im really bad at tagging you guys, spells, these are just prompts id put together for the bingo thing, uh how do you tag, yay they are all friends!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 09:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: When blood and death and horror surrounds your life and your every waking moment is spent worrying about survival and the fear of losing the people you love most, when you are nocked down in a pile of your own blood and tears, when memories and forgetfulness plague your every day and every night until you wake to scream, when your body no longer listens to you, when your voice grows quiet when it needs to be strong, when your bones shake with such an anger never felt before that you are ashamed, when sleep finally comes on your own accord and you look a younger shaddow of your self. Who is going to be there for you when you need to not be alone?That's easy.Famly. Family always protects, family always defends, family comforts, family loves.It's our job to be there for family.





	It's Our Job to be There for Family

**Author's Note:**

> This was done off of a prompt bingo thing. Heres who's who. 
> 
> Fjord: "Trying to be subtle while leaning against objects to stay upright"  
> Beau: "Anther character spots their hands shaking, so they hide them"  
> Jester: "Making excuses to linger because they don't want to be alone"  
> Molly: "Scared or ashamed to sleep because of their nightmares, especially around others"  
> Nott: "Apologising right before they pass out"  
> Caleb: "Collapsing or falling asleep and looking far younger"  
> Yasha: "Trying to communicate or command even though they can only speak a few words at a time"
> 
> Hope this is ok! I tried to go a little abstract/out of the ordinary with how I did these prompts so I hope you like these either way. I don't really know many spells so I used a broad description and hoped it fit something. Thanks, lovely! xxx

The wall was firm behind his back and Fjord was relieved that he could lean against it without being seen, even for a moment, breathing deeply through his nose. He could hear his name being called from the street and with a heavy sigh, he pushed up and off the wall and limped towards the group.

It was more of a sway, he realised, sticking close to the wall with his hand gently trailing it as he met with his friends. The cultists had got him good. Fjord didn’t know what the spell was but he was light-headed and dizzy, his legs almost didn’t want to listen to him. He was bleeding, bruised, shaking, his mind placing false obstacles under his feet.

Jester came bounding up to him with a grin on her face, extending her arms to touch Fjord’s arm, his wounds closing and his head clearing somewhat. His feet still didn’t want to listen, and he placed his arm against the wall again to save himself from falling.

Face contorting into worry, Jester’s grin faded, placing her hand on his forehead. She was talking to him, but he was only focused on staying upright. “Fjord!” She almost yelled, yanking his chin to face him. “Are you ok?”

Mustering a nod, Fjord tried to concentrate on her face. His legs had turned to jelly, his knees giving out. He placed his hip on a conveniently placed crate. Jester frowned, a horrible look on her, he decided, with the way her nose scrunched and her lip turned into one thin, razor-like line. She grabbed his arm, pulled him slowly into the light.

One foot in front of the other, he told himself, blinking in the sudden sunlight bearing down on him. He leaned heavily against his sword, like a crutch, and forced a smile when Beau lifted his chin, frown identical to Jesters.

She spoke, but Fjord was too busy on _don’t fall over, don’t fall down_ …

Two, blue, clawed fingers came around the back of his head, glowing a bright, radiant white, the pressure in his head fading to nothing, his legs stilling until they no longer felt like water.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, swiping a hand down his face. “I’m fine. Go look after Caleb and Molly.”

The men in question were sitting in a pile on the ground, covered in blood- mostly their own-, Caleb’s eyes empty, distant, blood pouring from a wound in his hairline. Molly was gripping the wizard's hand like a lifeline, tail curled in on himself and holding back the convulsions as poison flowed through his veins, his fangs piercing his lip for more blood to drip down his chin. Nott frantically fretted above them, trying to keep Molly awake and Caleb in the present.

Jester gasped as if forgetting, hurrying over and dropping to her knees, one hand on either man and eyes closed. It seemed not to do much, save for closing their wounds and she swore in Infernal. A small curl of a smile slid from the side of Molly’s mouth.

Giving Fjord one last once-over, Beau left him to drop by Jester's side, pulling out bandages and following the cleric’s instructions.

Fjord gently, quietly, leaned against a wall and watched, waited for his vision to stop swimming and his legs to listen to his commands.

* * *

 

Anger bubbling in her chest, Beau threw blow after blow into the dummy, straw spilling out of the ripped fabric and falling gently to the dirty floor. The room was dark, the only light from the high up, cloudy window.

Fists wrapped in her comfortable bandages that wind around her wrists and palms and fingers like a snake, cracking hard into the straw-stuffed man, the wooden beam keeping him upright sending a sharp twinge of pain through her arm every time her knuckles hit. Beau felt and anger so strong it was almost clouding her vision, turning it red with fury and bloodlust, although, she supposes, that may have been some of the alcohol talking.

The repetitive motion was as familiar to her as her own name, the rise and fall of her chest, the winding of her bandages around her skin, the feel of the smooth wood of her staff. _Crack, punch, whack, crack, punch, punch, punch, kick, kick, punch…_

_Again and again and again and again._

It was late afternoon, the sun hardly shining through the old worn window in what she thinks is an abandoned barn. She wasn’t sure, hadn’t looked at the outside before dragging a dummy she’d found in the basement of the inn they were staying at and shoving it inside, closing the door and plunging the room into silence.

Her own blood and heartbeat were pounding in her ears, _boom boom boom_ , and she matched her hits to it, her own drum beat egging her on, _crack crack crack._

It may have been the alcohol she’d ordered at the bar, the almost-glowing blue stuff that tickled and burned, but she couldn’t remember why she was angry, just knew she was and knew the best way to get rid of it was to train until her fingers bled and she could feel nothing but tired.

Looking past the dummy to the far-off thick plaster wall at the back of the barn, where the heavy shelves used to be, she longed to throw her fists and legs against it until she was numb, until she could feel nothing but the burn of pain and exertion and forget about the anger coiling in her stomach and threatening to weasel its way up into a final, deadly scream.

The guttural cough of a voice clearing behind her made Beau whip around with her staff held firmly in her hands, only to see an awkward looking Yasha standing there with one hand on her hip and the other tangled in her messy hair, eyes trying and failing not to look at the sweaty and panting Beau. “Molly said you’d gone for a walk, so I followed you. Hope you don’t mind.”

Beau forced her voice to stay steady. “Nah,” she flung her staff back behind her. “Scared the crap outta me but that’s fine. When’d you get here?” she wasn’t sure if she was asking when she’d gotten to the same tavern as the group to meet up and speak with Mollymauk or when she’d silently arrived at the barn.

“Not long,” Yasha replied, looking intently at Beau. That answered both questions, she supposes. Yasha’s eyes bore into her like a flame, looking her up and down before settling in on her hands. “You’re angry. What happened?”

Not even bothering to hide it, Beau sighed. “I’m not sure anymore. I think it might have been something to do with Caleb and Nott, but that was a while ago. It might not have been.” And a stray crossbow bolt and a threatened departure. A pause. “How did you know?”

A nod to her hands. “Your hands are shaking.”

Suddenly, Beau could feel them, quickly hiding them behind her back, tangling them in her robes. _Shit shit shit shit shit_. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

They were tremoring behind her and Beau couldn’t believe she never noticed, didn’t hide them before she’d talked to Yasha, couldn’t believe they were just out in the open, shaking, _weak_ -

Sighing, Yasha walked over to a corner and pulled off her cloak, gently draping it over a table that had been unceremoniously shoved to the side. She pulled her greatsword- or maybe it was a long sword, Beau was never too sure but it was fucking _hot_ -  off too, placing that next to her cloak. She turned back to Beau, arms up and hands in fists. “Spar with me.”

Beau didn’t even have to ask what she was doing as she matched her stance with Yasha and they traded blow after blow until the sun came up the next day and the red around the edges of Beau’s vision faded to nothing.

* * *

 

They’d had a bad day, Jester reasoned, and it was the kind of bad day where nothing could be said to make it better.

First was the bandits they’d encountered on the way here, killing one of their horses and sliced a deep gash into Fjord that would have killed him if Molly hadn’t made the man’s ears bleed with an infernal hiss of _“touch him again and your soul will rot in the depths of hell”_ , making Jester grin with pride. Then they weren’t allowed into the town they were going to because ‘devil spawn’ weren’t permitted and Molly dragged her away before she could do something stupid, the rest of the group deciding it would be better to go to the next town instead, as Beau had also almost broken the mayor's nose. After that they’d found out they’d run out of food and Jester had no more pastries in her bag. Then Nott drunkenly fell off the wagon and Caleb panicked until they found her. _Then_ a large tree fell down in their way and they couldn’t get the horses or cart around it so Jester and Yasha had to lift it and throw it back into the tree line.

So, Jester thought, throwing another healing spell into Fjord’s bandaged chest, it wasn’t a very good day at all.

“Thanks’ for helpin’ me out Jester.” Fjord groaned as he got comfortable on the bed.

“Don’t thank me!” She placed a kiss on his cheek like she’d seen Molly do and laughed as a blush speed across the green skin where her lips met. “I’m the cleric! It’s my job. Now, sleep.” A gentle tap on the nose.

After looking satisfied with her rearrangement of his pillows, Jester darted out of the room in search of someone else. She realised now, that she particularly didn’t want to be alone, not after the day they’d had and the blood they’d spilt. She’d found Beau, Molly, Yasha and Nott downstairs at the bar and snuggled into Molly’s side, careful not to get her horns tangled in the threads of his coat. He reached a hand down and threaded it into her hair. _“Hey there Jester,”_ he mumbled in Infernal, quiet so only she could hear. _“Are you alright?”_

“ _We had such a bad day today,”_ she whispered back, the Infernal familiar on her tongue. _“I don’t want to be alone. It’s stupid but- “_

 _“Why do you think I’m down here?”_ He interrupted her, rubbing the base of her horn. _“I’m sitting next to_ Beau _for fuck sakes.”_

Giggling, Jester closed her eyes as Nott scrambled over the wood to reach her, threaded a flower in her hair and sat back with a mug of the strongest house ale. “Thank you, Nott!” The flower was yellow and Jester grinned as she ran her fingers over the petals.

Yasha and Beau were talking, Yasha casing the room with stern eyes and heavy frowns while Beau was casing _Yasha_ , looking her up and down like a fine piece of meat and licking her lips like a dog at dinner time. Jester nudged Molly and whispered. _“I think Beau has a crush on Yasha.”_

 _“You think?”_ Molly cackled, putting his lips to Jester’s head. _“She’s been staring at her like she wants to eat her up. I don’t think she’s heard a word she’s said since they sat down.”_

_“At least they don’t hate each other like Beau hates you.”_

Molly tilted his head up and laughed. _“Beau doesn’t hate me; she just hates how much better I am than her.”_

The monk’s eyes met hers. “You look tired Jester,” Beau told her, nodding in her direction. “Maybe you should go have a nap?”

Sudden fear coiled in her chest at the realisation that she might have to be alone. “No no!” She exclaimed quickly, sitting up so fast her horns knocked into Molly’s. “I’m fine! Not tired at all!”

“You really do look tired,” Nott said, turning to face the group. The flagon was almost as big as she was, and it was comically sitting between her legs. “You had to heal Fjord a bunch today and then you and Yasha had to move that tree. Don’t you need your spells back?”

“Oh yeah!” Jester laughed weakly. “I do! But I get them back when I sleep tonight, and the tree wasn’t that heavy! Not with Yasha’s help! I still have spells too!”

Yasha’s eyes were on her now as well, and her frown deepened into one of worry. “What’s wrong?” She asked as if the fear were written across her face, plain as day.

Jester opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly Molly’s hand was on her arm. “I’m tired too.” He yawned, standing. “I’ll take off with her. Night all.” He reached over and kissed Yasha's head as he turned away.

Making their way up the stairs, hand in hand, Molly leaned over to her and whispered, _“I’m not letting you be alone tonight if you don’t want to. I understand. I’ll stay with you.”_

Keeping her hand in Molly’s as they made their way up the old, creaky staircase, Jester didn’t feel lonely for the first time that day.

* * *

 

Molly was on watch, wasn’t sleeping anymore. Hardly ever closed his eyes around the group, paid extra for a room of his own at any inn and sleeping alone with a rag between his teeth and woke with blood flowing down his face.

People had brought it up, sure. Had asked him why he wasn’t sleeping anymore, always on watch. He just winked, smiled, laughed, rolled his eyes and often walked away.

But behind his eyes images swirled of things he doesn’t remember and things that might happen in the future, filled with blood and flames and screaming, the stench of death burning his nostrils and making his eyes water long after he woke.

So he kept watch, fingers flickering through his card deck, eyes kept firmly on those he cares about. He was exhausted. He should probably sleep soon, but he wouldn’t sleep until he got his own room in the next inn or tavern within the next few miles and sure, Fjord was suspicious and obviously slightly offended but as long as he didn’t hear the screaming and the begging and the crying from Molly then obviously he was safe and he didn’t know and Molly didn’t have to-

There were eyes on him. He could feel his chest coiling up in panic and his nails digging deep into his palm. His body stiffened up on his own accord, tense as a coiled spring. He knew the first stages of his own panic, knew that soon his breathing would stop and the world would go black and empty and he will walk up screaming with nightmares and shame. But there were eyes on him, and Molly tightened his hold on his scimitars to both ground him but also to be ready in case he didn’t like what he saw.

He watched Caleb’s eyes close just as Frumpkin jumped onto Molly’s lap, purring and rubbing his side along his legs, over his hand, licking the long jagged scars that littered every expanse of Molly’s skin. Running his hand through Frumpkin fur, the tiefling kept his eyes on Caleb, who didn’t stir. He was either a very good actor, Molly supposes, or he really was asleep. No, his breathing was too quick, his eyes darting behind his lids, his body stock still as if he was trying not to get caught.

“I know you’re awake Caleb,” Molly whispered softly, keeping his voice low for Jester with her head on his legs, fingers not stilling in Frumpkin’s fur. “You don’t have to act. I don’t care.”

Slowly, trying not to move a sleeping Nott too much, Caleb sat up and faced Molly, blinking in the darkness. Molly gently rested his tail on Caleb’s leg so he knew where he was, and Caleb jumped, but relaxed soon after, placing his hand on it. “Why are you awake?” He asked, sleep making his accent thick. “You have not slept in months, you are tired. Why are you taking watch?” his eyes narrowed and Molly thought Caleb was looking deep into his very soul. “What are you ashamed of? Why are you afraid?”

For a second, Molly considered lying. Considered laughing it off and rolling his eyes, telling Caleb to go back to sleep, he has nothing to worry about. But something about Caleb’s eyes told him that the wizard already knew. “Nightmares are a bitch,” Molly grumbled. “I uh, don’t have very good aftershocks, sometimes people get hurt. I’d rather have them alone.”

“Ah,” Caleb tilted his head to the side, considering. “So you are ashamed.”

“Well, they’re not great.” Molly felt the need to defend himself, quickly, and found soon his words were coming out of his mouth like a fast-paced river flow before he had them in their right order or could stop them. “It’s not really that, it’s just that they aren’t pleasant and I don’t particularly want people around when I have them because I might hurt someone or I might scare them because sometimes I wake up screaming and I don’t particularly know what about and I’m usually scared to go to sleep in case I have them again but I also don’t want to because if I _do_ have then again and you guys see, then I’ll have to deal with Beau and Jester and Fjord and I don’t really want to have to explain myself but I-“

Caleb was shushing Molly and running a hand gently along his tail, his chest tightening up again in panic and his words stopping in his throat. “It is alright,” Caleb hushed him, keeping his voice calm and even. “I understand. I’m sure you would be better if Yasha were here, _ja_? You can sleep tonight, and I will wake you if you start screaming? Then you wouldn’t look so much like you were dying every day.”

Shaking his head, Molly forced himself to speak again. “Nah, I better stay up. For watch. I have to keep an eye on you fuck heads.” His words didn’t have their usual bite, sounded flat, broken, tired. A fleeting look of sympathy- or was it empathy? - flashed across Caleb’s face.

“Ah, _fruend_ , I understand.” He gently lifted Nott and carried her to the same tree Molly was leaning against, placing his own back to it and putting Nott where she was on his lap. “Then I will stay up with you, keep you company.”

Already feeling the panic fading from his chest, Molly listened quietly as Caleb recounted stories and spells, reading the stars and their futures within them as Molly shuffled cards long until the bright pinks of sunrise shown over the horizon.

* * *

 

Nott was so sure she’d gotten away, darting between the trees. It was dark, after all, and humans couldn’t see in the dark. That was only for goblins and tiefling's and half-orcs and whatever Yasha was. She didn’t know, but it was a big and scary thing and made a lot of noise.

Darting between trees, Nott wondered where Caleb was, slowing to see him near the camp. When she couldn’t see him, her breath stopped, rushing for the camp- ah. Flames shot out from his hands, igniting the camp into a bright glow and Nott saw him. That’s fine. Fjord and Jester were with him.

Checking she was alone, Nott put her back against a tree, pulling out her copper wire and twisting it between her palms. “Caleb, be careful. Be safe.” She whispered, watched his head tilt as he listened. “You can reply to this message.”

Another blast of flame. “Yes _schwester_ , I will try my best. But promise me the same, _ja_?”  

Spinning around and firing behind her again, Nott grinned as she heard a yelp, laughing to herself behind her mask. There were quite a few, she realised, more than every other time, and they seemed to be afraid of Jester and Molly, keeping away from them- far away-, which was really funny to Nott, because how could you be afraid of Jester? Molly, yes, Nott could understand that, everyone was afraid of Molly, but why would you be afraid of sweet lovely Jester? She gave Nott pastries and flowers and healed her and- 

Something hit her in the chest, something hard, something sharp, and Nott gasped in pain, firing off another crossbow bolt as she backed up against another tree. There was blood pouring through her fingers as she felt the hilt of the dagger that was buried there. She fired off another bolt as the man in black with the scar above his eye and the symbol hanging from his hip of 5 interlocking swirls that Nott swore looked like dragon’s teeth, or maybe claws, this bolt flying through his throat and he went down with a wet gurgling sound that was like someone at a bar Nott had gone to when they'd had too much to drink.  

The sounds of battle had quieted, nothing but Molly’s laugher and Caleb calling for her. She was tired suddenly and slunk down the tree until she was on the floor, staring up at the tree canopy. It was nice, the birds were noisy occasionally and Nott swore they were trying to talk to her. The night was already dark and there were no stars in the sky, but Nott thought she could see her vision going darker and darker, Caleb’s voice going quieter and quieter.

This must be what Caleb goes through after every fight, she realises, being so soft and squishy and easily breakable. He stays in the back mostly, which is good, Nott likes it better, he doesn’t get hurt quite as often and Nott always knows where he was. It sounded like she was underwater, her head filled with cotton instead of a brain and Nott supposes this is what Caleb must feel every time he passes out. She’ll have to talk to him about that, how to stop herself from giving into the cool, welcoming dark. Although, Caleb must not be very good at it himself. It seemed like every second fight Jester had to wake him up.

Suddenly, her friends head popped into her quickly darkening view, face contorted in fear and horror. Nott didn’t like it, and she reached her hand up to place it on his face. He lifted his head and shouted for Jester, grabbing Nott’s hand and holding it tight. “S _chwester_ you promised me you’d be careful and stay safe!” Caleb’s face was contorted into such worry that Nott felt it in her very soul and she wanted to do anything to make that look go away.

“I’m so sorry Caleb,” she sobbed, only now realising she was crying. “I’m so sorry.”

Her world faded to black as a blue horned head shoved its way into Nott’s view with a gasp and hands that glowed a heavenly white as Caleb brought Nott’s hand to his forehead, squeezing it tight and pleading, begging her to wake up.

* * *

 

He was asleep, and there were whispers all around the campsite.

His coat was bundled around him like a blanket and Nott had lent him one of her own to use a pillow, tucking it behind his head. This wasn’t getting-hit-too-hard-and-falling-unconscious sleeping, nor passing-out-from-blood-loss sleep either. This was deliberate sleeping, relaxed sleeping, so can you blame the rest of the Nein for being curious?

When he was asleep, Caleb looked peaceful, younger, youthful, like nothing in the world could stop him. The worry lines gone from his forehead, the frown lines gone from his brow. Once, he might have smiled more, might have smiled often, in other life and another time, the smile lines around his lips and his eyes replacing the darkness usually written on his face.

Nott sits by him, stroking her fingers gently through his hair and whispering quiet words of love and adoration and pride that Caleb would baulk at if he were awake. His coat was dirty, as was his hair, and she brushed her hand through the strands and across the rough and worn fabric to clear it of some of the dust. Caleb had called his coat a ‘comfort blanket’ once, and while she hadn’t known what he had meant then, she knows now. He told her while Frumpkin was his cat, his friend, his familiar, in times of stress he could be her comfort blanket. She understands now.

Claws gently trailing down his face, Nott realised he looked like a child, _her boy_ , and he looked safe, looked happy, looked… fixed. He didn’t have the worry lines and the fear and the panic and the distress that normally littered his features and Nott wanted the world to stop so she could give _her boy_ this one moment of time to rest. Because that what he was right now, a little boy, _her boy_.

His books were tangled in their holders and she gently spun them back how they normally were. So smart, Caleb was, that he must need to sleep for a long time because he had learned so much and he was so smart and it must-

A shadow fell onto her and Caleb and Nott looked up, seeing the faint tinges of green against the blaring sun. She hissed and looked down. “What is it Fjord?” she asked, hands stilling in Caleb’s hair.

“May I sit for a moment?”. She nodded. He sat down, crossing his legs so he was almost at head height with Nott and stared down at Caleb with a sad look on his face. “He looks younger.” He said, moving strands out of his face that Nott had missed. “It’s a little sad, don’t you think? He always looks so… pent up when he’s awake.”

Nott suddenly felt a twinge of possessiveness, one that made her want to push him away from Caleb with the memory of what he had done that night long ago in the High Richter’s house in Zadash, and her eyes darted looking for his falchion, only to see an empty sheath. Good. “Why do you care.” She grumbled, and it wasn’t a question. “You don’t like either of us, you’re just doing this because you think you can make us good again by being nice to him, but it’s not going to work.”

Caleb shifted under her, turning over and pillowing his face on his hand with his back to Fjord, almost as if he could sense it. Sighing, Fjord threaded a hand in his own hair, tugging at the shorter strands. “Maybe I do care?”

“Is this really a conversation you want to have right now?” Nott snapped quietly. “You’ve come over here, while he’s asleep for the first time in ages, to apologise and talk about why you like me? No thanks, either sit here quietly or go away.”

Silently Fjord sat, until Jester called him away with promises of pastries and gold and Molly’s cards, gently patting Nott’s shoulder as he walked off.

He did look younger, Nott decided, definitely younger, and if other people besides her could see it, it must be true, right?

* * *

 

There was blood, lots of blood, Yasha could feel it. Could feel the gash through her navel, spilling blood through her fingers and through her leathers and onto the dirty floor. Red rimmed rage clouded her vision, and even though she couldn’t feel the pain, she could feel her insides when she stuck her fingers in the wound.

She swung her sword through enemy after enemy, blood scattering across the blade and across her skin, the heat of the battle making her grin despite herself. There was a wizard- or maybe a warlock, Yasha never could tell the difference, they were both basically the same- in red and white robes, which was very odd for either, who pointed a hand at her. Black energy crackled around his fingers and fired at her. Although she tried to resist it, the spell took hold and she felt the blood pouring from her lips, his vision narrowing to a tunnel and she cut him town without another thought. Later, she would wonder if it were a wizard or a warlock, but she only knew of green-skinned warlocks and dirty wizards.

Pain flared in her chest, and she stumbled, looking for any of the Nein, maybe Jester, maybe Caleb, maybe-

Purple and red, a blast of yellow and Molly was standing right in front of her, his coattails whipping around her legs as he sliced through a man with yellow glowing hands, turning to face her with a look of panic once they fell. “Yasha!” He called, standing on his toes to reach her shoulders. “Talk to me, what happened?”

The words were stuck in her throat and she gritted her teeth as every word said felt like a knife on the inside of her chest. “Mage….” She ground out because she really didn’t know what it was, but it was definitely a mage, “Spell… pain…” a deep, deep breath. “Blood.”

And yes, Molly could see now, the blood under her hand, the blood flowing down her chin with every word. Yasha watched panic, horror, fury, determination, worry all race across his face in a matter of seconds. “Ok, ok, it’s ok.” It sounded more like he was comforting himself. “Follow me, I’ll get you to Jester. She’ll know what to do.”

The red-rimmed anger was fading from her vision and she could start to feel the pain that had been previously been blocked. She grabbed the end of Molly’s coat as he turned away. “Rage… fading… pain…” the words burned now, poison in her throat, glass in her lungs and Molly turned with a shaking sigh, slicking a quick thin gash in her arm, the red-tinted vision coming back.

“Let’s go,” he shouted, grabbing the front of her furs to get her moving, running and slicing as more and more men came after them, sending them to the floor in a pile of their own blood and weapons, dancing and weaving like the Nott sisters from the circus, like Orna with her flames. He spun every now and then, keeping his eyes on Yasha, cursing in Infernal at anyone that got too close to her and they all fell to the ground, clutching their heads.

“Where…” Yasha gasped, slicing at a black hooded half-orc. “Molly… stop.”

Molly bolted into a clearing, Yasha following, just as a giant, glowing purple lollipop smashed a red-robed man into the ground. The rest of the Nein turned to face them at their approach, Molly shouting and pleading for Jester to help Yasha, who collapsed onto the ground in a gasping heap.

“What is it Yasha?” Jester asked, hands already glowing before she’d knelt next to here. “Oh no, you’re really hurt! Here, let me heal here first and then I will see what to do about the spell.”

Molly must have told them, but Yasha wasn’t sure, all she could hear was her heartbeat in her ears. “Thank… you.” It hurt to say, but it had to be said, and more blood spilt from her lips as Jester placed her hands on the gash in her navel.

Jester laughed, with an undertone of worry. “Do not thank me Yasha! It is my job! Now sleep, you will be good as new when you wake up”

With Molly’s hand suddenly in her hair and the humming of the songs from the circus ringing in her ears, Yasha did, the last though crossing her mind of the horrible fashion sense their attackers seemed to have, and how they really should coordinate their outfits more.

**Author's Note:**

> There are a few German words in here, and as I do not speak German nor trust google translate, I only used words that Caleb/Liam has used in the show. 
> 
> Ja= yes/yeah/ya (basically)  
> Fruend= friend  
> Schwester= sister


End file.
